


One Day More

by modern_mage



Series: Waiting for the Dawn [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3783745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modern_mage/pseuds/modern_mage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marian Hawke had been to Darktown many times before, but never when the lantern was lit. </p><p>Prequel to Child of War</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

It had been exactly eleven months since Marian Hawke had arrived in Kirkwall, and she was still not used to the stench. She could never decide what was worse: the smell of unwashed bodies or the smell of the waste that lined the streets. Darktown was the absolute worse. So many refugees in one area, along with the fact that Darktown was quite literally, a sewer, made the rest of Kirkwall smell like a meadow in comparison. 

Working as a smuggler, Marian found herself in Darktown more than her nose would have liked. Frequently, she met up with her “contacts” and “associates” in Darktown, if only for the reason there were less guards and templars. Being an apostate involved in illegal activities caused enough trouble so she wanted to avoid highly patrolled areas in the city. Still, it would be nice if Marian could go one day without feeling the need to vomit from the awful stench. 

Marian resisted the urge to gag as she approached the entrance to Darktown. She could already smell the foul odor and mentally cursed Carver for making her buy his poison. It had been her first day off in months, and she had planned on tracking down Aveline. It had been far too long since she had seen her friend. Of course, Carver had a job today with some of the other smugglers and didn’t have the time to make the trip to the undercity. Perhaps if Marian hadn’t been a mage, she would understand the appeal of poison. As Carver always said, it “gave him an edge.” As a mage, Marian always had an edge. 

Making her way through the winding streets of Darktown, Marian kept one hand on her coin purse. For every innocent Ferelden refugee, there was a thieving pickpocket. As an indentured smuggler, Marian didn’t get paid. Any profit she made came from deals on the side or from looting corpses after a scuffle. She knew she had it better than most, but there were some days when she barely recognized the person she had become. She missed her old life in Lothering. 

Finally seeing Tomwise’s stall, Marian breathed a sigh of relief. Tomwise, even though he dealt in poisons, was one of the friendlier, kinder people she had met in Kirkwall. When she was finally done working for Athenril, there was a chance that he would be the only one she might actually miss. 

“Tomwise!” she called as cheerfully as the smell would allow her. She waved at the elf and approached his stall. 

He brushed his hands on his apron and gave her a weary smile. “Hawke, what can I do for you today? I was expecting Carver to show up at some point today, but not you.” 

Marian scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You know Carver. He never does what he’s supposed to do and then complains when he doesn’t get credit for it.” 

Tomwise nodded his head in agreement. “There is a reason why it’s _you_ that everyone is talking about. Well, that and the fact you’re a mage,” he said sheepishly. 

“People always do seem to find that tidbit of information fascinating, don’t they?” Marian quickly glanced around to make sure that no one had overhead. Turning in mages could bring a hefty sum, and the people were desperate enough here to do just about anything. 

“You here for Carver’s poison?” Tomwise asked. “I just had a batch made up.” 

“You would think that for as little as he does for Athenril, he wouldn’t run through it so quickly,” Marian quipped. “How much do I owe you?” 

Tomwise chuckled. “Since you’re stuck caring for that bastard, I’ll give it to you cheap. Three coppers.” 

Marian handed the coin over. “You know, I bet you use that line on all the pretty girls that stop by.” 

“Have you seen where I work? I don’t get a lot of pretty girls,” he rebuked. He handed over the poison to her and gave her a wink. “You’re the exception.” 

“I am charming, aren’t I?” Hawke smiled. She placed the poison in a pouch on her waist. “See you around, Tomwise.” 

Marian supposed that if she hurried, she could still make it to Hightown to see Aveline and back home to Lowtown before dark. She knew it wouldn’t be wise to try; being caught alone after dark was basically a death sentence in Kirkwall. She thought about Mother and Carver and sighed. She shouldn’t be taking any unnecessary risks when she had the responsibility to care for them. 

“To Lowtown, it is then,” she mumbled. 

_____________________________________________________________________________

After being nearly pickpocketed three times and having to use a spell to escape a mugger, Marian arrived at her home in Lowtown unscathed. She made sure that her appearance was acceptable before opening the door. Her mother had the habit of criticizing her whenever she looked a little too ragged. Marian was unsure if it was simply the noble woman in her mother or how she had always been hard on her. 

Marian walked through the door and breathed in deeply the slightly less repelling smell of Gamlen’s house. Her mother was in front of the fireplace, staring into the embers. Ever since Bethany died, Leandra had never quite been the same. She was quieter, except of course, when she was blaming Marian for her sister’s death. 

Gamlen, as usual, was snooping through Marian’s letters, looking for coin that he could spend gambling or as he called it, “investing.” There were few things that Marian hated more than Gamlen. He was the one that made her and Carver become indentured servants. If he actually knew how to handle money, they would have had a real home in Kirkwall. 

Marian went to the back room and hid her staff under one of the floorboards. It was impossible to tell when a templar might stop by in search of apostates. Her father had taught her well how to hide from templars, and she was grateful for his guidance. 

“I don’t even want to know where you have been today,” Mother said as Marian reemerged. “Where’s Carver?” 

Marian shrugged. “Damned if I know.” 

“Marian!” Leandra exclaimed. “That is not how a young lady speaks to her mother!” 

“I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m a lady,” Marian scoffed. “Last time I checked, ladies weren’t apostates who illegally smuggled goods.” 

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Mother scowled. She took a deep breath and rested against the back of her chair. “Thank the Maker that you only have one month left doing this dreaded work. You can get a safer, legitimate job, and we can see about finding you a husband.”

“Not this again,” Marian groaned. “You’re never talking to Carver about settling down.” 

“Carver is a baby! You are twenty-five years old! You need to start thinking about these things,” Leandra reprimanded. “I just want what is best for you.” 

“I’m not arguing this now,” Marian stated, promptly ending the conversation. 

Marian walked back into the bedroom and climbed onto the top bunk. There was barely enough room in the house for all of them, so she often shared a bed with her mother or slept on the couch. If she couldn’t visit Aveline today, she would catch up on some much needed rest. 

_____________________________________________________________________________

She awoke to the sound of arguing. She rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed. She assumed that Carver had arrived home, and Mother was berating him for being late and worrying her to death. Her mother was never worried about her; she just criticized every decision Marian ever made. 

“Why do I still have to live here anyway? So I can live in Marian’s shadow?” Carver yelled. “Well, I’m tired of it, Mother.” 

“You’re too young to live by yourself,” Leandra cried. “I won’t allow it!” 

Marian stood watching from the doorway. Honestly, she was tired of it, too. Both of their lives had become routine: wake up, try not to get killed, and come home to a grieving mother who refused to let her children have their space. _Just one more month…_

“I am eighteen! I am a capable warrior! Why can’t I find my own way?” Carver asked earnestly. 

“You know why,” Gamlen snarled. “You have a month left of work with Athenril.” 

“And you still need guidance,” Mother added. 

“And who’s going to give that to me? You? Don’t be ridiculous,” Carver snapped. Turning on his heel, he walked out the door and slammed it close behind him. 

Marian huffed. “I’ll go make sure he doesn’t get killed.” 

Carver was pacing outside the door and grumbling to himself. His large sword rested on his back. To most people, Carver would be intimidating, but Marian saw him as just her little brother. 

“Leave me alone, Marian,” Carver growled. “You’re the last person I need to see.” 

“Besides the usual things, what’s pissing you off today?” Marian asked. She leaned against the wall and prepared herself for one of Carver’s rants. 

“I hate this. I hate all of it. Working for Athenril is beneath me. I could do so much more,” Carver griped. “But I’m stuck here. With you.” 

Marian gripped her chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, brother. You absolutely wound me.” 

“Could you stop being a sarcastic ass for just once?” Carver asked angrily.  
“I could, but I’m not going to.” Marian smirked. “It’s too much fun to tease you.” 

“Of course it is.” Carver sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Can’t you see why I want to leave? You and Mother are relentless. And everyone knows you’re the better smuggler.” 

“Maybe that’s because I actually try,” Marian said with a raised eyebrow. “Or it could be because I’m not caught up trying to prove my worth to myself.” 

“I know my worth! But no one else ever will because I am stuck with you! Marian this! Marian that! Will no one ever recognize my accomplishments?” Carver aired. 

Marian had heard this argument so many times that she had practically memorized all his points. She knew he thought of himself as lesser to her. She also knew that if he stopped complaining about it, he could actually do something and have no more reason to complain. 

“One month, Carver. Can you survive one more month?” Marian asked. 

Carver took a deep breath. “I suppose so.” 

“Good.” Marian gave him a brief smile before reaching into her pouch. “And I got your poison.” She tossed the bottle to him. “Now you can have your ‘edge.’” 

Carver looked at the bottle before storing it in a container at his hip. “Thanks, sister.” 

“Don’t mention it.”


	2. Two

“That was the most satisfying thing I’ve done since I told a templar to screw himself,” Marian sighed happily. “Did you see the look on her face when I told her we were quitting? Best. Thing. Ever.” 

Carver walked beside his sister through the streets on the way back to Lowtown. They had been in Hightown to personally tell Athenril that they were quitting. It had been exactly one year since they had been indentured, and they would not spend another second doing what had been forced upon them. 

“We should get a drink. Celebrate,” Carver suggested. 

“You make it sound as if we have money to do that,” Marian rebuked teasingly. “We can barely rub two coins together, let alone pay for anything.” 

“Shit, we’re going to have to get jobs now, aren’t we?” Carver groaned. “Real ones.” 

“Actually, I’ve heard that petty thievery makes for a strong career choice,” Marian chirped. 

“This is serious, Marian,” Carver reprimanded. 

“I _am_ serious,” she replied before winking at her brother. “Even better, we could beg! Although, I hear no one gives you any coin unless you’re disabled. Perhaps we could use that sword of yours to…” 

“Enough! If we want to make names for ourselves in this city, we need to do something!” Carver protested. 

“I don’t know where you’ve been Carver, but I’ve already made a name for myself,” Marian scoffed. “Even though I hated working for Athenril, I was damned good at it.” 

“Of course you were!” Carver exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re Marian Hawke! You’re amazing at everything! No one can compare!” 

“I am not in the mood for this, Carver,” Marian warned. “Get over yourself.” 

“Fine. But we _do_ need jobs. For Mother’s sake, at least,” Carver resigned. 

The two continued their walk back home, each of them pondering over their current predicament. They needed money. Money came from work. Work came from skill. As far as either of them was concerned, the only skills they had was decent farm work and fighting. With no farms around, it felt as if they would be trapped continuing a life of crime to support their Mother. 

Marian thought about Bethany and how much time she used to spend at the Chantry. She felt as if she was betraying her late sister by doing so many questionable things. Neither Bethany nor the Chantry would approve of the past year. 

But as an apostate refugee, Marian didn’t have many options unless she wanted to end up in the Gallows… or worse. She had heard awful things about Knight-Commander Meredith over her year in Kirkwall, and she had a feeling that she would not be shown mercy for her years as an apostate. 

“I wonder if I could join the guard,” Carver thought aloud. “Aveline seems to enjoy it.” 

“Aveline is the most protective, determined, selfless woman I know, Carver,” Marian said. “Maybe the job wouldn’t be as good of a fit for you.”

“Right, because it would take the spotlight away from you,” Carver shot back. “Can’t have that, can we?” 

“I swear to the Maker if you don’t stop with this, I’ll-“

“You’ll what, sister? Get rid of me? Then you really wouldn’t have to worry about being the lesser one for once,” Carver snapped. 

“You’re impossible,” Marian huffed. “It’s like we can’t go three words to each other without getting at each other’s throats. But we can go see Aveline tomorrow and see about getting you a post as a guardsmen.” 

“I don’t need you to come with me,” Carver grumbled. 

Marian’s eyes narrowed. “Has it ever occurred to you that I want to see Aveline, too? She’s the only friend I have in this Maker-forsaken city, and I haven’t seen her in months! I know it may be hard, but stop thinking about only yourself for just a second.”

Carver stared blankly at his sister for a few moments before muttering out an apology. Marian nodded her head at him in acknowledgement, and they continued the walk home in blissful silence. 

____________________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning, Marian hopped out of bed, being sure not to disturb her mother. She slipped on her boots and made sure that she didn’t smell completely horrible. After quickly running her fingers through her hair, she removed her staff from its place under the floorboards. 

She walked into the other small bedroom to see if Carver was ready to leave to find Aveline, and instead she found him still fast asleep in his bed. Marian rested her face in her palms and took a deep breath. She had told him to get up bright and early so that they would have plenty of time to get to and from home without having to travel at night. She wasn’t sure what his definition of bright and early was, but she thought she had made clear what _her_ definition of it was. 

Marian began debating with herself about how she could wake him up in the most unpleasant way possible. She could always use magic to do so; a nice electricity spell would do the trick. Then a more devious idea crossed her mind, and she knew exactly what she was going to do. 

A few minutes later, Marian had a bowl filled with warm water. She set it besides Carver’s mat on the floor and placed his hand in the bowl. This would take longer than magic, but the result would be well worth it. 

Marian went to check for letters. Seeing that she had a whole pile waiting on the desk, she decided to begin reading them until Carver woke up. Even though she would be in a different room, she was _quite_ sure that she would be well aware when her dear brother decided to join the world of the living. 

Her first letter was from Lothering. One of her old friends was asking about her wellbeing and informing her that her old home was completely destroyed. Even though that the Blight had been ended by the Hero of Ferelden, Lothering was obliterated. There was no home for the Hawke family to return to. 

Marian felt her eyes water as her friend listed some of those that hadn’t survived the Blight. Marian might not have been the most social person; she was more worried about templars, but she knew many of the people in Lothering. They had stayed there longer than they had any other place, and she considered it her home. 

The other letters were about Kirkwall matters. Most of them were asking for help with certain problems or were simply advertisements for different products. All of them, however, were tossed into the fire. She watched the papers turn to ash and felt a feeling of satisfaction wash over her. She still had time. There was no reason to settle in Kirkwall permanently yet. 

Marian looked back at the Ferelden letters and sighed. She wanted to write back, but getting a letter across the Waking Sea would cost money that she didn’t have. Even if she did have the money, there was no promise the letter would even reach its recipient. Marian wasn’t even sure how the letters had found their way to her uncle’s inferior house in the slums. 

Carver had still yet to awaken. Marian rolled her eyes and resolved that she could use the trick another day when they had more time to spend. She picked up the bowl and shrugged her shoulders innocently before dumping the water onto her brother’s sleeping head. 

“What the-!” Carver exclaimed, immediately waking from his slumber. He fumbled around in search of his great sword but stopped when he saw his sister snickering above him. 

“In case you were wondering, it could have been worse,” Marian said simply. “Now get up. We need to go now if we want to have plenty of time to get to Hightown and back.” 

Carver snorted. “I don’t understand why you’re so afraid of the dark. You know that you could take down anyone that attacked you. Hawke.” 

Marian ignored her brother’s usual spiel about her superiority. “If you get up now, I _might_ use a warming spell to dry you off.” 

“Shut up.”  
____________________________________________________________________________________________

“You watching for templars or is your head too far up your ass, brother?” Marian snapped. She wasn’t the biggest fan of Hightown. With the Chantry so near by, there were more templars in this part of Kirkwall than anywhere else. If she actually thought about it, there wasn’t any place in Kirkwall that she actually liked.

“I’ve been watching for templars since the day I was born, _Hawke_ ,” Carver snapped back. “Thanks to you and Bethany.” 

“Why do you keep calling me Hawke?” Marian asked exasperatedly. Her brother had always referred to her as “Marian” or “sister.” Considering he was a Hawke himself, it didn’t make much sense for him to call her anything else. 

“I figured I’d let you get used to it. When you become some legend, everyone is going to refer to you as Hawke, _Hawke_.” 

“Should I call you Hawke, too? Ooh, then we could really mess with people’s minds,” Marian replied sarcastically. 

“Don’t bother. No one will remember me,” Carver whined.

“For the love of Andraste…” Marian sighed tiredly. 

As they walked pass the marketplace, Marian looked at all of the goods that they couldn’t have. She saw a sword that looked like it would fit Carver perfectly. Despite their constant bickering, she _did_ want what was best for her brother. She thought he deserved that much. After all, she hadn’t been able to do what was best for her sister. 

They walked up another flight of stairs that would lead to the Dwarven’s Merchant Guild and eventually the Viscount’s Keep. If Aveline weren’t on duty, she would be there at the barracks. When Carver tripped over a step and nearly fell on his face, it took all of her willpower for Marian to keep from bursting out laughing. Carver scowled at her before checking to make sure his meager armor was in order. 

As usual, the Dwarven’s Merchant Guild was filled with arguing dwarves looking for a way to get them ahead in the Guild. Marian typically avoided this area of Hightown; she had no reason to listen to dwarves yell at each other. Today, however, she couldn’t help but overhear a particularly loud dwarf talk about an expedition… the type of expedition that would get her enough coin to get back to Ferelden or at least to provide for her mother. 

“Hear that, Carver? That, my dear brother, is the sound of coins clinking in our pockets,” Marian said coolly. “We should see if that dwarf needs any help.”

“The Deep Roads would get you away from the templars,” Carver mumbled quietly. 

After checking to make sure they didn’t look completely like common thugs, Marian approached the dwarf with Carver following quickly in her wake. 

“I hear you’re going on an expedition to the Deep Roads,” Marian stated confidently. “My brother and I have both dealt with darkspawn before. It would be beneficial and lucrative to add us to your party.” 

Carver raised an eyebrow at his sister’s large words. Most of the time, she tended to be a woman of action rather than words. 

“I’ve got plenty of people clambering to get on with this expedition. I don’t need the likes of you clogging everything up,” the dwarf replied stiffly. He turned his back on the two siblings, but they were resolved to become a part of the expedition. 

“You’ll want the best,” Carver added proudly. “And we’re the best. How many people on your team have fought an ogre and lived to tell the tale?” 

“Unless you have the head to prove it, what you claim to have done is worthless to me,” he snapped back. “Good day.”

“Please! We’re running out of options!” Marian cried out, her professional tone disappearing. 

“Looking for a quick way out of the slums, huh? You and half the other Fereldens in this dump. Find another meal ticket,” the dwarf said with finality, ending the conversation. 

As the dwarf walked away, Marian felt her shoulders sag. She could practically see the rest of her life play out in front of her. She would be trapped as a smuggler or, Maker forbid, a mercenary forever. She had always been told that crime doesn’t pay, but now it almost seemed like it was the only thing that _would_ pay. 

“Gamlen might be able to figure something out. He has a head for this garbage,” Carver said assuredly. He rested a hand on her shoulder, but she quickly shrugged it off. 

“If we still had the estate, there would be coin, and we wouldn’t have to worry about templars and starvation,” Marian griped. 

“It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Where’s Mother’s money? Our grandparents must have left something for her,” Carver suggested. “Unless Gamlen…” 

“I wouldn’t put it past him. We might want to- Hey!” Marian exclaimed as she noticed that a man was running away with her coin pouch. “Get back here!”

“You have all the money, don’t you?” Carver yelled as they chased after the criminal. “If we don’t get that back, we’re screwed!” 

The thief rounded a corner. When an arrow flew towards him, Marian gasped in surprise. The arrow pinned him by the shirt to a stone wall, and he was left immobilized. An auburn haired, beardless dwarf approached the man, a crossbow in hand. He said a few words to the man that Marian was unable to hear before retrieving the coin pouch. He then punched the man in the face and removed the arrow, allowing the man to fall to the ground. 

The dwarf turned and tossed the coin pouch back to Marian. She felt a wave of relief wash over her. She should have been watching her money more closely. If the thief had gotten away with it, she wasn’t sure how things would have played out. 

The dwarf twirled the arrow in his fingers and gave the siblings a cocky grin. “How do you do? Varric Tethras, at your service.”


	3. Three

The dwarf, Varric, was actually the younger brother of Bartrand, the dwarf leading the expedition, and had offered Marian a partnership on only one condition: she had to raise fifty sovereigns to help cover costs of the expedition. At first, Marian had been disinclined to accept his offer. She had no way of knowing whether or not he was actually related to Bartrand or if he would simply take the money and run. Yet, something in her gut told her to trust Varric. 

Afterwards, Marian and Carver continued on their way to the Viscount’s Keep to see Aveline. They, or rather, Marian invited Varric along. Carver was still skeptical about the whole situation and was concerned that Varric could possibly turn them into the templars. On the other hand, Marian found that Varric was delightful. He told amazing stories and had helpful advice about living in the city. If Marian was going to be stuck here, she might as well get used to it. 

The visit with Aveline had been shorter than either Marian or Carver would have liked. As a dedicated guard, Aveline had little time to chat. Instead, she bluntly told Carver that he would not make a good guard. She had then told Marian of an assignment that she was later going to need help on. Aveline had been sorry that she didn’t have much time to speak with her friends, but she valued her work greatly. 

Now, the Hawke siblings found themselves in the Hanged Man, the “best” tavern in all of Kirkwall. It was practically next door to their house in Lowtown, but they had avoided it during their year in Kirkwall. For one thing, they had no money to spend on drinks, and for another, they had been exceptionally busy working for Athenril. When Marian had mentioned that they had never been to the esteemed bar, Varric had insisted on buying them drinks. 

“It’s a good thing that we haven’t come here before, Carver. This place smells almost as bad as Darktown,” Marian commented. “Is that a blood stain on the wall?” 

“An apostate, smuggler, _and ___a critic!” Varric said with a slight raise of his eyebrow.

“Forgive my sister. Her nose does most of her thinking,” Carver scoffed. “She refused to live anywhere near stables or kennels. Of course, our father would always comply to her wishes.” 

“Probably because away from stables and kennels meant away from templars,” Hawke quipped cheerily. “And Varric, I’m oh-so sorry if I insulted your favorite establishment.” 

The dwarf chuckled. “So what does your father think about living in Lowtown, then? Not the best smelling place, that’s for sure.” 

Carver glanced at Marian briefly and saw the pain flash in her eyes. Malcolm Hawke had never devoted much time to his son, so his death had had more of an impact on Marian and Bethany than it had on Carver. While Carver loved his father, they never had the special bond that he shared with his mage children. 

“He’s dead. Has been for four years,” Carver said quietly. He glanced again at his sister and saw that she was fighting to hold back tears. 

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” Varric apologized quickly as he saw the concern on Carver’s face for his sister. 

Hawke took a deep breath and put a smile on her face. “The past is in the past, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” Her voice was shaky, and she didn’t sound convinced at all with her statement. 

Hoping to put a real smile on her face, Varric went to the bar and ordered the best drink the tavern had to offer. While it wasn’t anything too fancy, it could still get your mind off of things. 

Marian took the glass and nearly downed it in one gulp. Varric raised an eyebrow. It took most people a few tries to get used to the brews of the Hanged Man. 

Her eyes sparkled. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a drink. Thank you, Varric.” 

“No problem, Hawke,” Varric said, referring to her by her last name, as he heard her brother call her that earlier. He supposed that she simply preferred the name; Hawke did sound much stronger than Marian. “Junior? You want one?” 

Carver’s nostrils flared at the nickname, but he decided against arguing about it. After all, Varric was the one with all the coin. “That would be great.” 

After telling a waitress to keep the drinks coming, Varric led the Hawke siblings to his rented room at the Hanged Man. It was more private than the rest of the tavern, and it smelled slightly better. He thought that Hawke might appreciate that. 

The three began swapping stories and getting to know each other. Marian and Carver had interesting stories from their time in Lothering that Varric asked if he could borrow. Besides being a member of the Merchant’s Guild, Varric was an author and an avid storyteller. 

As time passed, it became clear to Varric that Carver was jealous of his older sibling and wished to carve his own path. Marian humored him sometimes, but she was quick to put her brother into his place if need be. She had a charming personality, but something about it seemed off to Varric. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt as if she was hiding something. 

“Okay, let’s get down to business,” Varric said finally as he saw that Carver was one drink away from being completely wasted. Marian, on the other hand, was almost entirely sober. He wondered where she had built up the tolerance for drink and if she would be willing to get into a drinking contest with him. 

“We need to get fifty sovereigns. I don’t see what else there is to it,” Carver complained, some of his words coming out slurred. 

Varric sighed. It had only been a few hours, but he was becoming tired of Carver and his stubbornness. The kid took the chance to argue about almost every single thing, and he would never change his stance on anything. 

“There’s a dragon, isn’t there? I would rather not be roasted to death, but if the need arises, I will fight one,” Marian interjected, her voice light as usual. Her previous sadness about her father’s death had disappeared in almost a heartbeat. 

“I’m afraid there are no dragons, Hawke,” Varric said. “Problem is that we need an entrance to the Deep Roads.” 

“How long have you been planning this? I would think that an entrance would be a priority,” Marian replied. Carver appeared to have already lost interest in the conversation. 

“We had one set up, but it’s no good anymore. Luckily, there’s a Grey Warden in the city. He might know about some entrances or have a map,” Varric explained. 

“The Blight just ended. I thought that all the Wardens would still be in Ferelden at this point,” Marian said. 

“Well, from what I’ve heard, this Warden left the order and came with the refugees from Ferelden. Didn’t know Wardens could do that, but still, he should have the information we need for this expedition.” 

Marian leaned back in her chair. “So what do you want me to do?” 

“There’s a woman in Lowtown who has been helping the refugees. She should know about this Warden. It’s too late to talk to her now, but at some point, we’re going to have to get her to tell us where this Warden is,” Varric said. 

“Seems simpler than fighting your way though a Darkspawn horde. I should be able to take care of it,” Marian responded decisively. 

Varric smiled. “Are you going to need help getting Junior home?” he asked, seeing that Carver was down for the count. 

“What? You mean I can’t leave him here?” Marian said jokingly. 

“For a boy his size, I didn’t expect him to go down so easily,” Varric commented. “I’ll have to remember that he’s a lightweight.” 

“Carver’s never really had the opportunity to drink. Mother didn’t want him to until he was older,” Marian explained. “Me on the other hand, she didn’t care about, so I could do whatever I saw fit. But ever since Bethany died, it’s been nonstop talks about my future.” 

“Oh don’t worry, Hawke. With this expedition, your future is bright.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually updated. It's a miracle.


End file.
